


Five Days and a New Moon

by LadyDrace



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Alpha Derek Hale, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Domestic, Emissary Stiles Stilinski, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Happy Ending, M/M, POV Stiles, Parallel Universes, Spark Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-18 15:15:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11877219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyDrace/pseuds/LadyDrace
Summary: Stiles gets a visit from himself from a parallel universe. In which he was born a girl. And had a kid. Which he's now stuck taking care of for a few days.Great.Oddly, though, Derek seems totally happy babysitting.Or:A story where things are both more joyous and more sad than anyone really expected with a such a cute baby involved.





	Five Days and a New Moon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TroubleIWant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TroubleIWant/gifts).



> Holy shit, man, I started writing this like two years ago. Then I accidentally told people about it, and they got excited, and a friend had a birthday coming up, so... I finished it. Giving myself a self-imposed deadline was maybe a mistake, because I only barely finished it in time, and didn't have it betaed. So concrit welcome, first of all.
> 
> Secondly, Happy Birthday [Trouble](http://troubleiwant.tumblr.com)! I know we haven't spoken in a while, but your birthday was in my dayplanner, so. I hope you have a great day. :)
> 
> Third, this fic goes by canon up until somewhere in season 3, and the Hale pack is still alive and well, because fuck you Jeff Davis.

Day 1.

 

Stiles was out renewing the wards in the preserve when there was a sudden _whoomph_ of sound, and he was knocked a few steps back by an invisible force. When he flailed his way back to balance, hand already on the pouch of nasty surprises he always kept in his pocket, there was a person in front of him. A woman. A woman with a baby, to be exact.

 

But the fact that she had appeared out of thin air with a swaddled infant was actually the least concerning thing about her. She was dirty, sooty smears across her pale skin, dark hair escaping her ponytail in unruly tufts, and she was breathing hard in small, rapid wheezes that usually meant imminent panic attack in Stiles' world.

 

However, all of these things were completely secondary to the fact that the eyes ringed by dark circles were a distinct honey brown that Stiles saw every morning in the mirror. And the more Stiles looked, the more things he recognized. Same upturned nose, same lips, even the exact same configuration of moles on her face. She looked like Stiles. If Stiles had been born a girl, that is.

 

Stiles couldn't even decide on how to start a question. _Who_ , _what_ , _how_ , too many choices. But, thankfully, the woman made the choice for him when she looked around frantically, and finally spotted him by the tree he'd almost brained himself on.

 

“Oh, thank fuck!” she said on a gush of breath that sounded almost like a sob. “I wasn't sure it would work! But it did, oh my god, I'm so sorry for dumping this on you but I have literally nowhere else to go, and I don't have much time-”

 

She moved towards him, and Stiles flinched a step back out of reflex. “ _Woah_ , what-”

 

“Right, of course, that was stupid, sorry.” The baby made a small noise, and the woman's eyes flicked to the bundle in her arms. A quick smile died on her lips, giving way to a look of such extreme sadness that Stiles could almost feel it radiating from her.

 

“Time,” she reminded herself in a small voice. “Not much time.” She leaned in to press a slow and shaky kiss to the infant's forehead, taking one last moment to just look before kneeling down and gently placing the baby on the slightly damp forest floor.

 

“Please, take care of her. I'm sorry. I wouldn't do this if I had any other choice.”

 

“Hey, woah, hang on-” was as far as Stiles got before the woman flickered out of existence, leaving Stiles alone in the forest with a baby at his feet.

 

“What... the fuck...?”

 

* * *

 

Usually, Stiles would be more than happy to look generously at the speed limits, because even at the tender age of twenty-two he could still sweet talk most of the older deputies. They'd probably always see him partly as the tiny, gap-toothed chatterbox who used to hang out at the station all the time and make friends as much as he made trouble. There was still crayon on a wall in the break room thanks to his artistic exploits.

 

But today he was going so slow he could have been pulled over for obstructing the flow of traffic if he hadn't deliberately been sticking to quiet and deserted roads, often going almost in circles to avoid the main veins of traffic.

 

Stiles could honestly say he'd never had a baby, or indeed anyone younger than a teenager, in his Jeep. Much less one who cried quite this much. He'd tried putting the kid on the tiny back seat at first, bundled in blankets and carefully buckled in, but the minute the engine started, the little thing had started screaming, and that shit _carried_. Someone was bound to notice, and, frankly, Stiles could only bear it for thirty seconds before he pulled over and untangled the baby again. She seemed to quiet somewhat in his arms, but being spotted driving with an infant on his arm would also definitely raise unwanted questions, so after some experimentation Stiles finally managed to make a sort of kangaroo-pouch out of his flannel overshirt, effectively tying the kid to his stomach. She still squirmed and whimpered, but was fairly secure and as quiet as she was probably gonna get. Unless they crashed, which was why Stiles drove so carefully.

 

He could have cried himself from relief when he pulled up to Scott's house, which he chose as his destination because it was closest, and saw Melissa's car in the drive. That meant his panicked SOS text had gotten through. He'd sent it as a mass text to all pack members and then put his phone away, opting to keep his hands on the wheel rather than check who replied and who didn't. Most of the pack were off at college anyway, and would probably check in with Derek soon to find out what was up.

 

It took a minute of careful shushing and rocking of the baby before she quieted enough that Stiles dared make the dash to the front door, bundle of fabric clutched awkwardly in his hands. Stiles acting weirdly would not raise any red flags with any nosy neighbors, but Stiles acting weirdly to the soundtrack of a crying baby most definitely _would_.

 

The door slammed behind him, and prompted the baby to immediately start wailing again, which, in turn, caused all the people in the room to turn and stare at him. And it was actually quite a lot of people. Scott, Derek, Cora, Melissa, the sheriff, Isaac and, weirdly, Jackson. Basically everyone pack or pack-adjecent who were in town had made it to Scott's house before Stiles. He had to admire their eager beaver attitudes, really.

 

He could have kissed Melissa, though, when she didn't hesitate to march right up to him, and start to gently untangle the screaming bundle from him.

 

“Heeey, now, baby,” she cooed, shushing the kid as she started checking everything from the diaper to the general state of health. “Why so angry? It's okay, nothing's gonna hurt you, sweetie, it's okay.”

 

Stiles had to disagree. Things were very much not okay.

 

“Anyone here know how to make a bottle of formula?” she asked the room in general, and Stiles had to stare when _Derek_ , of all people, was the one to get up and take the shopping bag Melissa was holding out.

 

Noticing Stiles staring, Cora shrugged. “He's a big brother.”

 

The room went even more tense than before at the reminder of all the people the Hales lost. Small children included.

 

“Dad, really?” Stiles asked, forcing himself to focus on other things.

 

“First of all, kid, it was over two decades ago, and your mom breastfed for so long we never really needed formula,” John argued, and Stiles had to endure a mocking grin from Jackson, because he was an asshole first and foremost who liked to transfer his negative emotions over being adopted onto everyone around him.

 

“I can't find anything wrong with this little nugget,” Melissa said finally, and bounced the baby gently in her arms to quiet her. “At least not off the bat, and I'm thinking a nice meal is really all she needs right now.”

 

As if on cue, Derek came back with a bottle, dribbling a little milk out on Melissa's wrist for her approval without even being asked, before handing her the bottle. “Thank you, Derek. Here you go, baby girl,” she cooed, and the noise stopped like the flick of a switch.

 

The whole room seemed to sigh in relief, and Stiles finally managed to peel himself away from the front door where he'd been pretty much frozen in shock over the whole thing. As he came closer to the baby, though, he realized that Derek hadn't moved away. Instead, he seemed to inch ever so slightly closer, eyes trained on the baby's face as she suckled.

 

“She looks...” he trailed off like he forgot what he was saying, but he didn't move away, and Cora went to his side after a minute.

 

“What?”

 

“Do you remember... Ella?”

 

Something in Cora's face almost shattered at the question, but she nodded.

 

“Just.. look,” Derek managed, and Cora leaned in close to the baby.

 

“You're right,” she muttered. “She does kinda look like Ella. The chin and the eyes. Something about the forehead too.”

 

“I dunno, I think she kinda looks a little bit like Stiles as a baby,” John piped up. “But isn't there a thing where all babies look alike?”

 

Stiles had to swallow what felt like a truckload of cotton, because he probably couldn't postpone an explanation any longer now. “Well, I think my dad at least has a point here, because... I'm pretty sure that kid is mine. Kind of.”

 

It was nothing short of disturbing how all eyes shot to him at once.

 

“Son?” John asked tightly, and Stiles explained everything as quickly as he could to get it over with.

 

“And this... other you. She didn't leave a note or anything?” John asked, and Stiles shook his head with a sigh.

 

“Nothing. Just the baby. Said she didn't have time and then just... poof.” Watching absently as the baby greedily gulped down the last of the formula, Stiles suddenly wondered if one of the reasons her mother had looked so frantic was because she hadn't been able to feed her baby. “She looked terrible, though. Desperate. Terrified. Like... she was running from something.”

 

Everyone in the room stayed silent for a while, just digesting everything.

 

“It's gotta be a parallel universe type of deal, though, right?” Isaac piped up eventually, and as much as Stiles hated agreeing with Isaac about anything ever he had to admit that it was probably the most likely theory.

 

“Which means we'll need Deaton,” Derek said on a growl, and Stiles could only echo the sentiment. Dealing with Deaton was almost always an exercise in frustration, but he _was_ generally the most knowledgeable person on all things supernatural, so there was nothing for it.

 

As if offering her own opinion on the matter, the baby let out a huge belch the moment Melissa put her upright, not even needing a pat on the back.

 

“Good, huh?” Melissa said, and hoisted the baby onto a shoulder, just in case more burps were happening. “Compliments to the chef,” she added, sending Derek a smile. He just shrugged back, clearly still cranky over the prospect of having to deal with Deaton.

 

“He should probably see the kid, too,” Stiles pointed out, and there was a murmur of agreement.

 

“Well, I'm afraid I can't be baby wrangler on this one. I'm still on shift, and there's only so long Aisha will cover for me, so I gotta get back to the hospital,” Melissa said, and looked around the room. “Anyone care to take over?”

 

Stiles would have been more amused at the vague terror on everyone's faces if he didn't feel it himself. Technically his kid, sure, but he knew pretty much zilch about babies, and had a very valid concern that he'd kill the child if he was left responsible for it.

 

“I'm out too, sorry, can't bring a baby to the station,” John said with genuine regret, and everyone else looked like they would really much rather have the floor eat them.

 

“Don't look at me, it's Stilinski's kid,” Jackson pointed out, because of course he did.

 

“That doesn't mean I know what to actually _do_ with a kid! Also not my choice to get knocked up. Blame that on _other me_ ,” Stiles argued, and was getting good and ready for a good long rant when Derek rolled his eyes and stepped up again, making Stiles kinda forget what words were for a minute out of sheer surprise.

 

“Fine, I'll handle it,” he grumbled, sounding very reluctant, but Stiles didn't miss the softening of his frown when the baby was put in his arms.

 

“Excellent. You got it, or do you need anything?” Melissa asked, but Derek just shook his head.

 

“I'm good.”

 

“Great! Then unless there's a problem, this nurse needs to get back to work. Good luck with the munchkin, formula and diapers are in the bag,” Melissa said, stopping briefly to stroke the baby's cheek before shouldering her purse and turning to the door. “And keep me updated!”

 

“Same here,” John said, casting Stiles a questioning glance. “You okay handling this, son?”

 

Possibly overdoing it slightly, Stiles scoffed. “Pfft, sure! I mean, how hard can it be?”

 

Derek sent him an unimpressed look until he caved. “Very hard, of course, I'm sorry, I misspoke, obviously, taking care of a baby is very hard work, and I am forever grateful to my good friend Derek for-”

 

“Yeah, yeah, pack it in, kid,” John interrupted, and gave Stiles a quick hug. “Need me to tag along to Deaton's?”

 

Stiles was about to answer, but considering what happened a few seconds earlier, he instead raised an eyebrow at Derek, who made sure to roll his eyes again, because he was kind of a dick, as per usual. “We'll be fine.”

 

As if those were the magic words, the room suddenly exploded with poor excuses for why everyone could very much not spare the time to come along, and in a matter of seconds the room was empty except for Stiles, Derek, a baby, and a shopping bag of formula and diapers.

 

“Well. I really should have seen this coming,” Stiles said on a sigh, and Derek shook his head, absently patting the baby's back.

 

* * *

 

Deaton greeted them with the same single raised eyebrow he used for literally everything, so Stiles didn't even know whether he should be concerned or hopeful as he explained the matter, and Derek gently bounced the sleepy baby.

 

“Are congratulations in order?” Deaton asked, casting them both glances, and Stiles only barely restrained himself from making a very rude hand gesture in response.

 

“No. Maybe for alternate universe me, but the me in this universe is still one hundred percent childless.”

 

Deaton didn't respond to that, choosing instead to have a freaky eyebrow conversation with Derek which would have been more aggravating if Derek hadn't been just as obviously annoyed with that as Stiles felt.

 

“Look, could we skip the weird, silent conversations and maybe figure out how to get this baby back to her parents or something?” Stiles said eventually, and to his relief Deaton seemed to actually be amenable to that idea.

 

“Cross-universe travel is incredibly difficult. Your alternate must be a very gifted magic user,” Deaton said, and Stiles couldn't help but feel like it was some kind of dig at him. Surprisingly, Derek seemed to agree, which was very flattering and made smug warmth curl in Stiles' stomach.

 

“Stiles is an accomplished spark and emissary.”

 

Deaton quirked a tiny smile, which didn't make him seem happy or friendly at all. “I never said he wasn't. Now, may I see the baby?”

 

Derek responded with a very suspicious look, and hesitated for a good ten seconds before handing the baby over, and Stiles felt in a genuinely good mood for the first time since this whole thing started.

 

Gratifyingly, the baby erupted into screaming the second she was out of Derek's arms, so Stiles could only assume Stilinski gut feelings about creepy assholes were hereditary. But Deaton wasn't discouraged, and simply went ahead with his examination, which involved a lot less physical contact than Stiles had expected. It was mostly feeling the air around the baby's head, followed up with dangling some crystals over her body and drizzling some dust on her for no reason Stiles could fathom. As decent a spark as he was these days, most of what Deaton did still completely eluded him.

 

“Okay, I'm not admitting anything relating to my intelligence here, but what the hell are you doing?” Stiles asked, having to raise his voice quite a bit to be heard over the screaming.

 

“Quite a lot of things. Not least of all checking if she's stable in this universe, or if the cross-universe force will tear her body apart.”

 

Derek made a full-body flinch, and as much as Stiles didn't feel any more connection this kid than any other, he could relate.

 

“That's... not gonna happen, though, right?” Stiles asked cautiously.

 

“As far as I can tell for now? No. She's stable. The good news is that her mother did a good job tying her to this universe. The bad news is that this will make it substantially harder to send her back to where she came from.”

 

The longer the examination went on, the more antsy Derek got, to the point where Stiles started to wonder if he actually needed the bathroom or something, but the second Deaton handed the baby back, and her screams quieted, Derek breathed an audible sigh of relief. Stiles couldn't help but wonder just how much the baby looked like whoever the aforementioned Ella had been.

 

“So what do we do now?” Stiles asked, while Derek was busy fussing over the baby, letting her gnaw on his finger and kick her tiny feet around inside her blanket.

 

Deaton was cleaning the dust and other evidence of his examination off his table, and didn't even face them to answer, which only proved he was exactly as rude as he'd always been. “I'd suggest a cross-universe scrying. Since we have the physical tether,” he finally turned around and gestured at the baby, “it shouldn't be too difficult to get a few visions of where her parents are, and possibly contact them to facilitate her return. The only problem is we need to wait for the new moon.”

 

“Four days from now,” Stiles cut him off. “Great. What am I supposed to do with a baby in the meantime?”

 

The sassy eyebrow Deaton sent him and Derek in turn was uncalled for, frankly. “I'd say you have it pretty well in hand. I'll be ready for you at midnight Thursday,” he said, and then proceeded to completely ignore them, because he was too good for goodbyes, apparently.

 

“Great. Just fucking great,” Stiles muttered as he lead the way back to the Jeep.

 

“You really shouldn't swear around kids,” Derek said, and Stiles stopped dead to stare at him.

 

“... Derek. She's an _infant_. It's all just mouth noises to her right now.”

 

Derek stared right back, unfazed. “She could be precocious. Do you really wanna risk her first word being an f-bomb?”

 

Stiles would really like to argue, but that would mean opening up to the possibility that his kid was possibly not all things amazing and clever, which was just unacceptable. “Ugh, fine,” he said, and got into the Jeep. “I see your point. Would you mind holding her for a little longer? If she's staying for four days I'm gonna need a car seat. I got shi- uh, stuff to do.”

 

Derek got in too and carefully buckled himself in. Holding the baby in his arms wasn't the safest option, but it was the only one, currently, so it would have to do. And Stiles did know how to drive safely, thank you very much.

 

“You don't have to. I'll watch her until the new moon.”

 

Stiles stopped dead half way through turning the car key. “... dude, are you serious? I can't ask you to do that. And I'm not _totally_ useless, I've got Google and Melissa, and I'm sure even my dad remembers how to change a diaper in a pinch. I'll figure it out.”

 

“I'm not saying you can't do it, I'm saying this is more practical. You have your job and your college work and your emissary duties. I have nothing to do. Everyone's off at college, there's nothing attacking us, and...” Derek looked weirdly constipated, until Stiles gestured for him to go on. “And I have a car seat.”

 

Stiles blinked. “You. _You_ have a car seat? Why in the world would you have a car seat?”

 

“I babysit sometimes for the young couple in my building. It seemed more practical to buy my own,” Derek muttered, and that, at least, explained why he was so skilled at all the baby stuff since it had been quite a few years since he'd had younger siblings to take care of.

 

And wasn't _that_ thought just painful as heck.

 

It occurred to Stiles, then, that maybe Derek needed this. Looking like whoever Ella was, maybe it soothed something to take care of this random baby for a while, especially since most of his pack was barely even around. And Stiles was definitely not one to deny Derek any solace, especially considering Stiles was probably one of the few people who knew the whole story and also cared about Derek's well-being. An even more depressing thought.

 

“Okay, if you're sure. But I'm serious, one text and I'm there. I might not have made the choice to have her, but she's kinda mine, and Stilinskis don't run from responsibilities.”

 

Derek gave him an unimpressed look.

 

“Oh, shut up, I was a teenager, we all do stupid shit. And I never skimped on the life and death stuff,” he pointed out, and started the engine to the soundtrack of Derek's amused snort and the baby cooing. She still didn't like the Jeep's engine noise much, but she'd slept on the way to Deaton, and with Derek entertaining her now it was a fairly quiet trip to the loft.

 

“Wait, do we need anything else? Like more diapers or something?” Stiles asked as he parked, but Derek shook his head.

 

“There should be enough in the bag for tomorrow, and I'll get more then.”

 

“Right. Okay then,” Stiles said, feeling weird about letting the baby out of his sights, even though he'd barely even touched her since handing her over to Melissa.

 

Derek seemed aware of this, and hesitated getting out. “She _is_ yours, though. In a way. So if you want to see her, just... lemme know,” he said slowly, and Stiles nodded in return.

 

“Thanks, man. I dunno, I am kinda feeling a connection to her right now.”

 

“Probably chemistry. Or pack bonds. No one really knows how that works across universes, but if she's pack for you in that other universe she's pack for you here, too. So I mean it. Anytime you feel like seeing her.”

 

“Alright. Cool.”

 

Silence fell in the car, and Derek still wasn't going anywhere, instead bouncing the baby gently on his lap. She could hold her head up okay, but she was pretty damn small, and Stiles couldn't help but marvel at how she even functioned.

 

“What... what would you have named her?” Derek asked after a while. “If she really was yours?”

 

“Leia. Obviously,” Stiles added with a grin.

 

Derek grinned back. “Makes sense. Let's go with that, then, until we know otherwise. That okay with you, Leia?” he asked the baby, whose only response was sticking her tongue out and drooling a little. “I'm gonna take that as a yes.”

 

He finally got out after that, and actually waved with Leia's little arm as Stiles started up the Jeep again, proving once more without a doubt that Derek Hale was a complete and utter dork. It made Stiles feel downright gooey inside, and he drove off before he could spiral right back into the hell hole of his unrequited crush he'd worked so hard to put behind him.

 

* * *

 

Day 2.

 

Stiles did have quite a lot on his plate without a baby in the mix, but there did inevitably come a time where he was bored for a while, and started wondering how Leia and Derek were doing. Wondering maybe to the point of actually worrying, and ending up reading up on basic infant care for almost an hour, while flipping his phone over in his hand. He hadn't heard a peep since the day before, and he finally admitted to himself – fifteen browser tabs in – that he wanted to go see for himself how they were doing, and shot Derek a text that he was coming over.

 

Derek's answering text came while Stiles was driving, but when he checked it in the parking lot by the loft it was exactly as welcoming as Derek had promised, and Stiles loped up the stairs feeling strangely eager. Maybe Derek had a point about those pack bonds.

 

He let himself in without knocking, and found Derek lying on the couch, lifting Leia up and down, almost like using her for weightlifting, and as if that wasn't cute enough, she was giggling every time he let her down a little fast.

 

“Oh my god, that's disgustingly adorable,” Stiles said, and Derek blew a raspberry on Leia's cheek.

 

“All babies are adorable.”

 

Stiles sat down on the coffee table, ignoring Derek's side-eye. He could suck it, since he was taking up the whole couch. “I'm gonna have to disagree with that. Also, I wasn't talking exclusively about Leia. More the situation as a whole. Derek Hale, scary alpha, doing airplanes with a baby. That's stupidly cute, man.”

 

Derek gave him an odd look, but at least sat up and handed Leia over. Stiles didn't feel the need to investigate the sheer level of bone-deep happiness it gave him to accept her, clumsily moving her around until he felt like he had a decent hold on her.

 

“God, she's small. Are all babies this small?” he wondered, not really expecting an answer.

 

“Yeah, pretty much. But since we don't know how old she is, she could also be small for her age,” Derek pointed out, and Leia made a cooing sound as if to agree. “I'm guessing somewhere around three to five months.”

 

Now that there was no Jeep noises she was a different baby, blinking her big brown eyes placidly up at Stiles. She was his kid alright, though there were obviously also a few things from whoever her other parent was. The hair was a somewhat darker shade than Stiles', her nose and ears seemed different too. No obvious moles either, which he couldn't help but be happy about. He'd been teased so much about his own, having them referred to as poop smears more times than he could count.

 

And speaking of poop...

 

“Holy... _god_ , is that _her?_ ” Stiles asked with a small cough, because the smell suddenly filling his nostrils was disgusting.

 

“Yeah,” Derek said with a small chuckle, because he was kind of an asshole who enjoyed Stiles' pain. “Usually it wouldn't be that bad, since she's entirely on formula, but she's been pretty stressed in the last day or so. Her system's a little upset, I think.” He started reaching for her, but Stiles got up and turned away.

 

“Nuh uh, I got this. Where's the stuff? I can do this.”

 

Derek raised an eyebrow at him, but when Stiles didn't back down he did get out diapers and wipes. “Okay. I don't have a counter in the bathroom, so we're doing it in the kitchen.”

 

“Near the food? Ew, Derek,” Stiles said, but still followed, because Derek was holding the supplies.

 

“I can bleach the kitchen counter, and there's running water here. And the other tables are wood, they'll hold germs forever. ”

 

“... okay, you know how I hate it when you're right, but you're right. But what do you care, you're a werewolf.”

 

“ _She_ isn't,” Derek pointed out, and made Stiles feel bad for not even asking about that earlier. “And you're not. And half of the pack isn't-”

 

“Okay, okay, jeez, sorry, that was stupid,” Stiles muttered, and gently laid Leia out on the thick towel already placed next to the sink. It was actually several towels on top of each other, and Stiles felt kinda warm inside knowing Derek did so much to keep her comfortable.

 

Considering he'd never changed a diaper in his life he felt like he did pretty well, and though Derek snickered a few times he also offered advice, like how tightly to close the diaper and which way the buttons on her onesie were supposed to close. A onesie she definitely hadn't owned the day before, incidentally.

 

“You bought her new clothes?”

 

“Babies need a change of clothes several times a day, Stiles, I kinda had to.”

 

“I'll pay you back,” Stiles said as he awkwardly scooped Leia back into his arms.

 

“Don't bother, I have too much money.”

 

Which was a good point, and Stiles didn't push.

 

He did have more stuff to do that day but still stayed for more than an hour, just playing with Leia, and then staring at her like a creeper when she fell asleep. And then staring a little bit at Derek too when he took over, and for some reason looked like he was exactly where he was supposed to be. Stiles wasn't sure what to think about that, and left before he could feel even more skeevy.

 

* * *

 

Day 3.

 

The next day he didn't even question his need to go see Leia, and showed up before noon only to almost run directly into Cora.

 

“Stilinski! Good. Maybe you can help Derek get his nose off your kid.”

 

“She's exaggerating,” Derek grumbled as he appeared around the corner with Leia on his arm. “All babies smell good.”

 

“Riiight,” Cora said with a massive eye-roll, and patted Stiles on the arm as she left. “Good luck.”

 

“Uhh. Thanks?”

 

“Don't listen to her, she's just being... _her_ ,” Derek said, and plopped Leia into Stiles' arms without fanfare. “Watch Leia for a minute, I'll go make her bottle.”

 

As if there mere mention of food reminded her she was starving, Leia immediately started crying, her wailing piercing Stiles' ears and making him wince.

 

“Oh my _god_ , kiddo, chill! You're not dying! She _not_ dying is she?” he called after Derek, just to be sure.

 

“No. She's just hungry. She woke up just before you arrived. Bounce her or something, please.”

 

“Oh, okay.” He hoisted her slowly up and down, but that only seemed to make her more angry, so he cradled her in his arm and bounced his own body instead, making her jiggle along. A few bounces later she seemed to realize she was moving, and quieted down a little, eyes huge and fixed on his face.

 

“There we go, baby girl. See? It's okay, we just gotta hang in there until lunch!”

 

Every so often she'd make another little hiccup, but Stiles just kept bouncing her until there was a reassuring ding from the kitchen.

 

“If you wanna feed her, sit down on the couch, that's easier.”

 

“Okay, sure, learning from the master, here,” Stiles said, more to let Leia hear his voice than anything else, because she seemed to like it when he talked. The second he stopped moving she started crying again, but Derek was right there with a cloth, which he draped loosely around her neck, and then handed Stiles the warm bottle.

 

“Tilt her down a little more, or she'll suck in too much air.”

 

“Oki doki, here we go, look, Daddy's totally got this,” Stiles chatted and Leia stopped wailing long enough to see the bottle and make excited flaily hands for it until it came close enough for her to suck it in. Even though she'd stopped crying before, a different sort of peace descended as soon as she was eating, and Stiles felt weirdly emotional. “Dude, no wonder you volunteered, this is... pretty amazing.”

 

“Yeah,” Derek said softly, and sat down next to Stiles on the couch. After a while of quiet, only interrupted by soft smacking whenever Leia readjusted her tongue or something, Derek's voice sounded again. “Did you mean to say that?”

 

“Say what?” Stiles asked without taking his eyes off Leia.

 

“ _Daddy's got this_.”

 

Stiles hadn't even realized what he'd said, and he had to stop for a second to consider what that meant. “I mean... I guess. It's true from a biological point of view.”

 

“But not from an identity one.”

 

“Good point. I guess... yeah. I guess I mean it. And it's not just... pack or whatever. I feel like she's mine. Is that weird? I haven't even spent a full day with her.”

 

“Not to me. But, then again, born wolves tend to think differently about these things.”

 

Stiles nodded, and let the silence descend again as Leia finished the whole bottle. “Look at you go, girl, it's all empty now. Does she need more?”

 

“Only if she gets upset. Burp her first, then we'll see.”

 

She was somewhat unwilling to let go of the empty bottle, but let Stiles hoist her onto his shoulder without complaint. “Oh, hang on, you'll need the-”

 

That's as far as he got before there was a burbly noise right next to Stiles' ear, and warm wetness soaking slowly through both the flannel and t-shirt covering his shoulder. “She just barfed on me, didn't she.”

 

“Yes,” Derek said, his voice clearly strained as he was holding in laughter, the prick.

 

“That's just great,” Stiles groaned, and carefully held her out to inspect the damage. She seemed awfully proud of herself, flailing her arms and legs, and smacking her lips.

 

“It's mostly just milk, it barely even made it to her stomach,” Derek said as he took over Leia.

 

“Somehow that doesn't make me feel any better,” Stiles grumbled, and started easing out of his flannel. “You wouldn't happen to have a t-shirt or something I can borrow?”

 

“Uh, yeah, sure. Maybe you should clean her up, then.” Derek waited until Stiles was out of both layers before handing Leia over, and while the improvised bib had prevented the worst, she was still kinda wet around the neck. So Stiles laid her down on the couch and started working on the now slightly less unfamiliar buttons on her onesie.

 

“Ah, see? Daddy's getting it. Not a complete moron, huh?” he murmured as he helped her out of it. Only when it was off completely, and joined the pile of his own clothes on the floor, did he realize that Derek hadn't moved, his eyes fixed on Stiles. A sick feeling swirled in his stomach, because, come on, he knew he wasn't much to look at, but it wasn't like he was a _complete_ horror. “Take a picture, it'll last longer,” he snarled, and Derek jerked out of it at last.

 

“ _Oh_ , uh. Shit, sorry. I didn't mean to zone out.”

 

“I'm surprised the glare of my pale skin didn't blind you,” Stiles muttered with annoyance as he hoisted Leia up again so she wouldn't roll off the couch.

 

Derek frowned. “What? Oh. I... actually didn't even notice.”

 

“Really? Then what's with the staring?”

 

“Well. For a guy who didn't even know what to do with a baby two days ago you're really comfortable with her. And – surprisingly – you also look good together.”

 

It was a close call, but Stiles did manage to catch his jaw before it hit the floor. Derek Hale, the unapproachable wet dream of Stiles teens and later reluctant friend, was paying him a compliment. Stiles barely knew what to do with that.

 

“Uhm,” was all he could say, and Derek shuffled awkwardly.

 

“Sorry, I... sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I'll get you a shirt,” Derek said hurriedly, and practically fled up the stairs. Stiles was left on the couch with Leia's small hands smacking against his chest as she flailed happily.

 

“What... the fu- uh... frick just happened?” Stiles asked her, and the only answer was a half-hearted raspberry.

 

* * *

 

Day 4.

 

On day three of waiting for the right moon, Stiles had a whole day off for once, and true to his favorite method of ignoring problems he deliberately chose not to think about all of the weirdness of the day before, and showed up at eight a.m. at the loft to spend more time with Leia. If anything, feeding her and changing her had only made him feel more connected to her, so while he could in theory just leave her with Derek, he had an itchy feeling urging him to keep close. Having her skin to skin on his chest the day before had actually been the most calming thing Stiles had ever experienced, and considering his usual stress levels he wasn't stupid enough to ignore that.

 

He knocked and was about to slide the door open as usual, but it was locked. He frowned at it, and wondered if he should get out his own key, which Derek knew he owned and had only rolled his eyes over when he found out. But then the lock clicked, and the door slid open to reveal a shirtless, mussed up and baggy-eyed Derek and a red-faced Leia.

 

“Do you know what time it is?” Derek rasped, and Stiles stared.

 

“What the hell happened?”

 

“Nothing happened. She just didn't sleep that much last night. Babies do that sometimes.”

 

Stiles felt his hands itch to take Leia out of Derek's arms, but he clenched his fists to stop himself. “Is she sick? I mean... there's gotta be a reason. Maybe she's hurt somehow?”

 

Derek yawned and plopped down on the couch, Leia mashing her face into his chest and squirming unhappily. “She's not. She doesn't smell of pain. I think she misses her proper pack. We're an okay substitute, but since we have no idea what pack configuration she came from, who knows what she needs?”

 

“Well. We _do_ know for a fact her pack included _me_ , so...” he trailed off, and Derek blinked sleepily at him.

 

“That's actually a good point. Here, you take her. I'll have a nap. She just had her bottle, but she didn't eat much, so she might need another one soon. Diapers and stuff is in the kitchen, clothes are in that bag over there-”

 

“Dude, go sleep, I got this,” Stiles assured him. “You're a mess, seriously, I'm exhausted just looking at you.”

 

Derek glared half-heartedly at him, but then dragged himself back upstairs to bed, leaving Stiles alone with Leia. Who chose that moment to start wailing again.

 

“Hey, no, hang on, baby, we gotta be a little bit more quiet so Derek can sleep,” he said, bouncing her on his arm. That seemed to help, but she was still utterly unimpressed with everything around her. “Aww, what's with the face? Turn that frown upside down, kiddo!”

 

He started walking back and forth with her, bouncing her carefully and chatting calmly about everything and nothing, and it seemed the longer he walked, the more she calmed, so he kept going. Roughly an hour later she got upset again, though, and after about ten vaguely panicked minutes he figured out how to get the bottle warmed, and patted himself on the back for remembering to test it on his wrist and everything. He hadn't even realized how tired his feet had gotten from all the walking around until he sat down on the couch, and Leia's quiet suckling was like sweet, sweet music.

 

It was weird how satisfying it felt just to know that Leia was fed and happy. Derek had a good point. That frantic yet snail-slow trip in the Jeep with her crying against him felt like years away already. Now it was like she'd somehow always been there, and Stiles had the sudden terrifying thought that he wasn't entirely sure how he'd handle giving her back to her mother when they found her.

 

The bottle was only about half empty when Leia's eyes drooped closed and she let go of the teat with a cute little smack. “Awww,” Stiles cooed, and very gently hoisted her onto his shoulder, remembering the cloth this time. He patted her as gently as he felt he could, and was rewarded with the tiniest little belch, making him coo again, because this was just fucking magical. Stiles didn't usually like babies that much, but this one being his – in some way at least – apparently made all the difference, and he spent more than half an hour just staring at her sleeping face.

 

Tomorrow night they'd find out how to send her back. Maybe they'd even be saying goodbye to her then, too. Stiles' eyes burned, and before he knew it he was dialing his dad's number.

 

“Stiles? Is everything okay?”

 

“No,” Stiles admitted, somewhat wetly. “Dad, I've fucked up.”

 

“Is the baby okay?”

 

“Yeah, she's fine. _I'm_ not, though. Dad... I don't know how to give her up. I've barely even seen her, and I... I don't know how to let her go when she goes home. There's something wrong with me.”

 

John sighed down the phone. “Son. This might come as a surprise, but... this is perfectly normal. I worked my ass off in the days around your birth because there'd been a huge triple homicide, so I wasn't even there until the birth was almost over. Your mom was such an independent person, she told me to stay at work and that she'd call me if she needed me. She didn't call, of course, and by the time I got there she was pretty much done. I held you for maybe twenty minutes before I was called back to work, and... Stiles, I'm telling you now... I'd barely even met you, and if anyone had tried to take you away from me I would have shot them.”

 

“Pfft. No you wouldn't. You wouldn't wanna end up in jail for murder.”

 

“Well, see. This is where the whole parent thing comes in. Because you know you're a parent when you react without thinking. Illegal or not, if _you_ were in real danger, I would not hesitate to commit murder. Even now.”

 

That made Stiles lose his voice, because things had been decidedly rocky between them for a while, following the whole supernatural reveal. They'd patched things up, and Stiles never for one minute doubted that his dad loved him and would have done whatever he could to help if he'd known what was going on. But still. Knowing that his dad would not care about the very law he'd sworn to uphold if Stiles was in danger was something of a revelation, and he wasn't sure what to do about it.

 

“In any case, son... what you're feeling is perfectly normal. And I wish I could say something to help you.”

 

Stiles wished that too, but was only too aware of how little anyone could do. Leia was going home. He might as well get used to it.

 

* * *

 

Derek emerged a few hours later looking even more mussed and still shirtless, which made Stiles groan before he could stop himself. “Way to make a guy feel insecure,” he muttered, and Derek frowned at him.

 

“What?”

 

“Just your general beefiness giving me a complex.”

 

Derek smirked at him, because he was forever and always kind of a dick. “I seem to recall there was a time you enjoyed me taking my shirt off.”

 

Stiles' face burned, because he hadn't exactly been that subtle about his appreciation of Derek's everything for a while in high school. He'd gotten more relaxed about in the past few years, though, and as a consequence Derek had felt less annoyed around him to a point where they were sort of friends as well as being pack.

 

In reality they were pack mostly because of who bit who, not really spending time together unless it was directly pack or territory related. Stiles was pretty acutely aware that this was less than optimal, seeing as that made _him_ the emissary for a pack that was barely even a pack, and one day he'd get around to try and fix that.

 

“Yeah, yeah, laugh at my pain, douche-wolf,” Stiles grumbled, and shifted his arm under Leia's sleeping weight. She didn't seem that heavy, but after almost three full hours of her sleeping, and Stiles being too stupidly emotional to put her down anywhere, his arm was very sore.

 

“Language,” Derek said on his way to the kitchen, and Stiles rolled his eyes.

 

“She's asleep.”

 

“Fine. When her mother crosses through to this universe specifically to kick the ass of the man who taught her daughter a bad word, I'm gonna point to you. And I won't even feel bad for it.”

 

Stiles would love to join in the banter. He actually loved it when Derek did the fond annoyance thing with him, because it was the closest they ever got to feeling like real friends. But the reminder that Leia had a mother waiting for her hurt a lot more than Stiles was prepared to deal with, so he changed the subject.

 

“Whatever. Is there anything you need to do today? I got nothing on my plate, so I can watch her if you want.”

 

Derek cast him a glance as he emerged from the kitchen with a bowl of cereal, eating it where he stood, leaning against the doorjamb like some asshole morning-after fantasy of Stiles' hormone-fueled teens. “Not really,” he said between spoonfuls. “Figured I'd go pick up a few things at the store.”

 

“Cool. You do that, I can hang out here with Leia.”

 

As if hearing her name, Leia made a small squeaky whine in her sleep, and Stiles rocked her a little like he'd done the other times she'd moved. Derek just watched, chewing slowly, and for once Stiles didn't feel like he was being judged in any way. Possibly because of Derek's random and unconditional compliment the day before. Or maybe it was something in Derek's eyes, like a new kind of softness Stiles was pretty sure had emerged after Leia arrived. He found himself hoping fervently that Derek would be able to have a boatload of kids at some point, because it obviously gave him joy like nothing else.

 

“I was actually planning on taking her with me. It's good for babies to experience the world,” Derek said eventually. “You could come along.”

 

Stiles wasn't expecting that, and it took him a moment of stunned silence to answer. “Uh. Yeah, sure. I mean... if you think you can stand me for that long.”

 

Derek's only answer to that was an eye-roll, so...

 

“Guess we're going shopping, then,” Stiles told the sleeping baby.

 

“We'll go after her next bottle, so she won't need feeding in the middle of the store.”

 

“Good planning, right there,” Stiles said, and finally gave into the pain in his arm, gently putting Leia down on the couch.

 

Clearly, that was against her wishes, and barely a minute later she woke up with a loud cry, and Stiles' arm was still all pins and needles. “Jeez, my arm is dead. Could you pick her up?” he asked Derek, who had just finished his cereal.

 

“Sure. If you make a bottle for her, I'll check the diaper.”

 

“Teamwork, I love it,” Stiles said, and went to the kitchen, still shaking his arm. Leia wasn't entirely awake, and did the same thing she'd done the day before, mashing her face into Derek's bare chest as he arrived in the kitchen, and Stiles felt like he was damn near melting watching how Derek pet her whispy hair, and bent his head to nuzzle at her crown with his nose. It was such a inherently wolfy gesture, and it made Stiles' insides go all goopy and weird. Or not so weird. Dammit. He'd been so sure he'd gotten his crush on Derek under control. All it took was one baby to undo four years of hard work. Crap.

 

Oh well. It's not like Stiles was a newbie at this. He'd get a hold of it again. Eventually.

 

* * *

 

It was a surreal day. They went to the store, bought diapers and formula, definitely more than they needed if Leia was leaving in a day or two, but neither of them commented on it. They took the groceries to Derek's soccer mom Toyota, and then went for lunch afterwards, Derek masterfully eating his with Leia on one arm, and looking stupidly handsome doing it. On a whim they swung by the station so Stiles could make sure his dad wasn't sneaking junk food for lunch, and as if Stiles' heart wasn't already breaking, the look on John's face when he held Leia for a little while made it clear Stiles wasn't the only one who fell in love with her in an instant.

 

The new moon was gonna be _hell_.

 

As it turned out, though, at least he wasn't alone in his misery. Leia was taking her third nap of the day in the late afternoon, and Stiles was frankly impressed with her dedication to getting her rest, especially after the sleepless night before. Derek was puttering about, moving stuff and cleaning random things, like he didn't know how to settle down. Stiles could relate. There was a kind of fizzing under his skin, and he didn't want to go home and go through an entire normal day tomorrow, pretending he didn't have a daughter at Derek's place, and ignoring how they were possibly gonna shove her through some kind of dimensional portal tomorrow night.

 

“I hate this so much,” he said finally, and Derek almost dropped the book he'd been moving from table to bookshelf and back again at least three times in the last hour.

 

“You don't have to stick around. You can leave-”

 

“No, Derek, I mean... I hate having to give her back,” Stiles admitted in a small voice, and Derek sent him a wounded sort of look before sitting down next to him on the couch, defeat written in the slump of his shoulders.

 

“Me too.”

 

“It's dumb, isn't it. I mean... she's not really _mine_. I didn't... _plan_ her. I didn't look forward to her being born, I didn't suffer through her birth – on either side of the uterus – I didn't get up for nighttime feedings or diaper changes, I didn't worry about her or play with her or... _anything_. Before Sunday I didn't even know she existed. Hell, before Sunday she did in fact _not exist_ in this universe at all. Logically... I shouldn't care this much.” He turned to Derek, helpless. “But I do. I do a whole lot.”

 

“I... yeah. Me too. And I'm not... I'm not a genetic link the way you are, but... she smells like pack. Like _mine_. And I just... feel like saying goodbye to her will be like losing a pack member.”

 

“Like losing a limb,” Stiles added, echoing Derek's own words from years ago.

 

“Yeah. It's gonna suck.”

 

“Yeah,” Stiles said, watching as Leia snoozed on, well-fed and comfortable in a way Stiles could never remember being.

 

For the longest time it was just quiet, neither of them saying anything to interrupt the peace or turning on the TV or anything. It felt like a moment to be treasured, seeing as there was a deadline looming.

 

“I should probably go,” Stiles said reluctantly as the afternoon drew long. “Dad should be home for dinner tonight. I should... make sure he's getting some vegetables or something.”

 

“Or... you could just stay here. Spend the night,” Derek offered, and Stiles should probably have had more self-respect than to say yes in a second and a half, but fuck it, this was his daughter. He'd deal with the fallout tomorrow night.

 

“Okay, then,” Derek said, surprisingly cheerful considering he just volunteered to spend a whole night with Stiles. “We can order in if you want.”

 

“Sure thing,” Stiles said, and watched as Derek went to the kitchen for take-out menus. “This is gonna be awesome,” he said to himself in an undertone, stomach twisting. Because it had emotional disaster written all over it.

 

* * *

 

The night spent at the loft turned out to be even more of an emotional clusterfuck than even Stiles' creative imagination could come up with.

 

Leia decided once again that sleeping at night was for suckers, and while Derek assured Stiles that she was a lot happier than she'd been the night before, she was also very much not sleeping. They both stuck it out until well after midnight, hoping she'd decide to sleep at some point, but she was clearly in it for the long haul, only sleeping a few minutes here and there until Derek admitted defeat and went to bed, considering he'd already spent most of the night before handling it. So Stiles walked her, sang badly to her, talked to her, bounced her, dangled colorful items in front of her and watched her smack them with enthusiasm and terrible aim for hour after hour.

 

At four a.m. he met his official limit, and dragged himself upstairs to poke Derek awake. “Hey. Your turn,” he said, plopping Leia down on the bed where Derek could reach her, and then proceeded to stretch his aching spine. He'd definitely been carrying her too much. “I'll be on the couch if you need me,” he said, but Derek snorted.

 

“Don't be an idiot, I'll be downstairs with her, feeding and changing her, you won't get any peace. You sleep up here. Just take your shoes off first.”

 

“Uhh. Okay.” It felt a little weird taking off his shoes and stepping out of his jeans to lie down in Derek's still warm bed, but some small part of him – the part he usually told to shut the fuck up and be chill around Derek for fuck's sake – couldn't help but perk up at the idea.

 

He was too tired to get excited for long, though, and dropped off in minutes, his face smushed deeply into Derek's pillow.

 

* * *

 

Day 5.

 

Stiles woke up wondering for a minute if he'd somehow popped into an alternate universe, like the one Leia came from, because the first thing he saw when he cracked his eyes open was Derek on the pillow next to him, and Leia in the middle of the bed between them, pillows propped around her tiny body as a barrier.

 

Both Derek and Leia were out cold, and Stiles was sort of afraid to move in case he disturbed them. But his bladder was being pretty insistent, so eventually he eased himself out of bed as carefully as he could to take care of business.

 

When he came back, he stopped at the foot of the bed to just stare for a minute, because he'd had fantasies like this one. _Exactly_ like this one. Stupid, juvenile, domestic fantasies of him and Derek, shacking up with a couple of kids and dogs, having lazy mornings in bed and discussing whether they should hyphenate or not.

 

It was a sensation almost like whiplash to stand there and see the dip left in the pillow from his face where he'd been in bed with Derek Hale and a baby only minutes ago. Hell, they'd even shared the covers, albeit with a baby between them, but still. It was kinda hard to wrap his head around, and he was just about to work himself up to a small crisis when Derek woke up.

 

“Come back to bed,” he said, and Stiles only barely resisted the urge to pinch himself, because that sounded a lot more like something fantasy-Derek would say than real life Derek. “She's still asleep, and I think she might stay that way for a while longer if we're both here,” he mumbled, and killed Stiles' budding panic with the force of logic.

 

“Okay. I mean. Sure. I could sleep,” he said and carefully climbed back into bed.

 

“Shut up,” Derek said, but it sounded all warm and comfortable, no hint of sting in his words, and Stiles _knew_ it was stupid, but for a minute he let himself embrace the fantasy. Just for a minute.

 

Derek hadn't even opened his eyes or anything, and it felt almost like it was meant as permission for Stiles to look at him. So he did. Derek looked tired but also comfortable and soft, barely a crease between his eyebrows, and no tension in the corner of his mouth like there always was when he was awake. He looked younger, but at the same time also more mature, though that could have something to do with how his arm was curled protectively around Leia's little nest. Or maybe the chest hair. Stiles hadn't even really noticed the change, but there had definitely been a time where that chest was smooth. And now it wasn't. It looked really good, too. _Damn him_. Stiles couldn't even grow that ridiculous patch around the nipples like Scott could, oh no, Stiles would be smooth as a baby's bottom for life. Except, of course, for the goddamn _carpet_ under his navel, because his body didn't have the decency to even try for a pleasing distribution of anything ever.

 

Not like Derek. His body had a very pleasing theme going on, in Stiles' humble opinion.

 

As if arguing the notion, Derek grimaced, and Stiles half expected him to have somehow realized that he was being stared at, now gearing up to snarl at Stiles. But instead, Derek rubbed his face against his pillow for a second before apparently changing his mind, and curling in on himself to mash his head onto the pillow wall around Leia so he could nuzzle her scalp. Stiles had to cover his mouth with a hand to avoid making a noise, because it was so cute he could barely stand it.

 

But even in the face of overwhelming cuteness Stiles did only get a few hours sleep the night before, and he dropped off again before too long, his hand sneaking close enough to just brush Leia's soft arm as he slipped into sleep.

 

When he woke up again it was to Derek's multicolored eyes on him. Seeing as Stiles wasn't entirely awake, he didn't stop himself from sending Derek a gooey sort of smile, because he'd had this dream a few times and it was always a pleasant experience. Derek smiled back like always, pretty much matching Stiles' gooey expression, but then the dream shattered quite abruptly when a tiny hand smacked Stiles right in the nose, and a loud, delighted squeal pierced the air.

 

“Holy shit!” Stiles cried, and almost fell out of bed, while Derek tried and failed not to laugh, and Leia flailed her arms and legs, clearly excited about being awake. “ _Ha ha_ , yeah, laugh at Daddy, go on,” Stiles grumbled, and then immediately wanted to crawl under a rock, because he did not mean to make that sound as domestic as it had. Derek still seemed plenty amused and not at all offended, so Stiles called it a win. At least until he saw the time.

 

“ _Oh my god_ , I'm so fired,” Stiles moaned, and slapped a hand over his eyes. He only worked at the library three days a week, but Mr. Holly was extremely rigid, and had warned Stiles repeatedly that if he was ever late there were plenty of other people looking for a cushy job. Not that it _was_ that cushy, and Mr. Holly would be hard pressed to find anyone with a better understanding of his obscure filing system, but still. He might fire Stiles just to prove a point.

 

“Ugh, great. What do I do now? Do I call in and grovel, or do I just ignore it and pretend I had a horrible accident or something?”

 

Derek blinked slowly at him while letting Leia hold his finger in her tiny fist.

 

“Beacon Valley Library, right?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

There was an odd moment where Derek just looked at Stiles, and then reached to the bedside table for his phone. “Got the number?”

 

Stiles gave it to him, eyes narrowed. “Should I be concerned right now?” he asked while Derek put the phone to his ear.

 

“Yes, hello, this is Derek Hale. I don't know if you remember me-. Yes, last year. You're very welcome. Yes, I agree, very important. Right, right. Yeah, see, I was actually considering making another donation this year, but I wasn't sure if the paperwork-. Yes, exactly. No, don't worry about it, that's actually why I'm calling. You see, Stiles Stilinski happens to be a friend of mine, and he graciously offered to help me work it out with my taxes and everything, and today was the only day this week that works for me. Yes, he told me, but I'm afraid I had to insist. Oh yes, I'm very happy with his efforts, you should be proud of having such an amazing employee with such a firm grasp of all the public services the library performs. I'll be sure to tell him that, and I'll make sure the donation reaches you by the end of this week. Yes. Perfect, thank you. Have a nice day!”

 

By the time Derek hung up, Stiles had lost all control of his face, and was definitely gawping unattractively. “Dude... I'm not gonna lie... that was very sexy.”

 

Derek shrugged and put the phone away. “It's the money.”

 

“No, dude, I'm pretty sure it was the _I got you by the balls in the politest possible way_ attitude. Apparently that does it for me,” Stiles said honestly, and Derek... looked weirdly flattered, and Stiles could be imagining things, but Derek's ears actually looked a little pink too.

 

“Well. Glad I could help.”

 

Leia squealed again, and squirmed around until she could roll over and attack Stiles' finger with her gums.

 

“Dude, are you sure she's not a werewolf?” Stiles asked, his cheeks achy from how hugely it made him smile.

 

“Pretty sure, yeah. Though maybe her other parent is. She could be doing something they did with her.”

 

Stiles didn't have time to ask before Derek scooted in closer, until his face was right in front of Leia's, and then he shifted. His eyes glowed red, he opened his mouth to show off his huge canines, and Leia immediately forgot about Stiles' hand in favor of grabbing for Derek's teeth.

 

“I'm guessing that's a yes,” Stiles said with a grin, and gave up on holding in laughter as Derek chomped his jaws and made Leia's arms wiggle with the movement. “Oh my god, I'm dying, I can't handle how cute that is.”

 

Derek grinned too, though it was replaced with a wince when Leia grabbed for his cheek-fur instead, and then made her giggle by making nom-nom noises against her stomach, fangs and all.

 

It was such a picture perfect dream scenario that Stiles had a small panic spike that maybe he was somehow losing touch with reality, but then he remembered the cold hard truth. Leia might very well be leaving tonight, and he before he could stop it, his eyes burned and he sniffed wetly.

 

Derek's red eyes shot up, and even with his shifted face he was radiating concern. “What-”

 

“I'm okay. I'm okay,” Stiles assured him, though it was definitely a lie. But Derek just looked at him for a few seconds before accepting it, and going back to playing with Leia. He was clearly a little more subdued, though, and Stiles knew they were both feeling the grief already.

 

It was a strange day after that. Stiles did in fact help Derek find the paperwork for making a donation to the library, just to keep up appearances, but after that it was just... waiting.

 

They took turns changing diapers and heating bottles, played with Leia or dozed with her in bed, both of them climbing in with her in silent agreement whenever she got sleepy.

 

The day crawled by in a weird daze, and by the time the sun started easing towards the horizon they packed a small bag with stuff for her, since they didn't know how long the ritual would last, and then just... counted minutes.

 

“Do you ever wish you could just... stop time?” Stiles asked while he was wasting as much time as he possibly could looking for his car keys, which were already in his pocket, and which he didn't really need either since the car seat was still in Derek's car.

 

“Yes,” Derek said miserably, looking more sad than Stiles could ever remember having seen him, and he gave up on his key charade in favor of sitting down next to Derek on the couch and sharing in the pre-emptive sorrow. Leia slapped Derek on the nose and kicked her little feet against his chest to bounce herself, clearly not affected by the sad faces staring at her.

 

“I know she's not... mine,” Derek said quietly. “But can I just... pretend for a minute?”

 

Stiles had to sniff hard and look away, but he nodded. “Yeah. Of course. Do you... do you want me to leave?”

 

“No. I want us both here,” Derek said, sounding about as croaky as Stiles felt. “I want us to be a family. Just... for a little while.”

 

“I get it,” Stiles said, reaching out to gently grab Leia's nearest foot with two fingers. “You haven't had a real family, since... I mean. I get it.”

 

Derek snorted, rubbing his eyes on his sleeve without shame. “No. No, I haven't. But that's not what this is.” He turned his red-rimmed eyes to Stiles. “I wanted her to be mine. And yours. I wanted us to have this. But it never seems to work out for the best with us, does it?”

 

Maybe it was the grief, but Stiles couldn't seem to make sense of that. “I'm... not sure I follow.”

 

“It's just ironic, isn't it? First I'm too angry and damaged. Then when I'm finally more like a person you've grown beyond me. And now this glimpse of what we could have had lands in our laps way too late. The timing is just always fucked up, isn't it?”

 

“I'm... I don't... Derek,” Stiles said slowly. “Are you... are you telling me you're... that you want... this? With me?”

 

Derek just nodded and then hid his face in Leia's chest, letting her pull at his hair in a way that was definitely painful. “I'm sorry,” he said, sort of muffled, and Stiles felt like he might be sick.

 

Irony just did not cover it, by any stretch of the imagination.

 

“This is... you're right, this is ridiculously bad timing,” Stiles said. “But mostly because we should really have been in the car ten minutes ago.”

 

Derek peeled Leia off his face and frowned at Stiles. “What?”

 

“Look, I wanna talk about this, I really do, but we don't have time right now. So I'm just... I'm just gonna...” words finally failed him, so instead he leaned in, slow enough for Derek to move away. But Derek just stared at him, eyes going slowly wider until they slipped closed, and Stiles touched their lips together in a brief kiss that felt several years overdue. Leia made a squealing sound between them, pulling at both their shirts at the same time, clearly bored because no one was moving her around anymore, and Stiles pulled away from the kiss to tickle her, while stomping down on all the emotions rocketing around inside him. One thing at a time. There'd be time later, after... well.

 

_After._

 

“We gotta go,” he croaked, picking Leia out of Derek's arms and cuddling her close. It took a moment, but then Derek got up, holding a hand out for Stiles to take, and he accepted it with wet eyes. They went to the door together, hand in hand, and only let go when they got to the car and had to strap Leia into her car seat.

 

The trip to Deaton's felt both too fast and too slow for Stiles. Leia was all happy cooing, though. She loved Derek's Toyota for some reason, flailing her arms and legs in excitement whenever she saw the car, and spent the whole trip batting at the little colorful bead things tied to her seat for entertainment.

 

“Maybe we can't send her back tonight. Maybe we'll have to wait another moon cycle,” Stiles suggested, and Derek nodded, clenching his hands on the steering wheel. “Or maybe her parents are in trouble and need us to look after her a little longer. I mean... we don't know.”

 

Derek didn't answer. Just kept his eyes on the road, and swallowed a lot. Stiles watched his Adam's apple flick up and down the whole way.

 

They arrived to find Deaton ready for them, which Stiles couldn't decide whether was a good or a bad thing. A small bowl of various herbs was set up next to a larger and flatter bowl of water, and while Stiles wasn't too familiar with this particular ritual he knew the basics, and accepted the scissors and nail clippers Deaton handed him.

 

Derek's arm clenched briefly around Leia, but he didn't flinch away, and let Stiles snip off a tiny lock of her hair and clip off a few bits of her nails until he had a tiny pile in his palm. They shared a sad look, and Stiles leaned in to kiss Leia's cheek before turning to drop the clippings into the herbs, taking hold of Derek's hand and lacing their fingers together as soon as he was done.

 

“Ready?” Deaton asked, and Stiles nodded.

 

He wasn't ready. He'd never be ready. But it was time.

 

They watched as Deaton burned the herbs and then stirred the ashes slowly into the water while chanting the appropriate words. Soon they'd be talking to either Stiles' female double or another close relative to Leia.

 

Her name probably wasn't even Leia.

 

As reluctant as Stiles was he still couldn't help but lean in closer when the water cleared and images started appearing in the wobbly surface, and he felt Derek inch closer next to him too.

 

“What the hell?” Stiles couldn't help but whisper, because there was supposed to be people, he knew that much. The ritual was specifically meant to show them Leia's closest relatives. But there was only smoke. And something that looked kinda like a couch. It was hard to tell, the images were almost smudged, like a camera lens that needed cleaning. “Did you fuck it up?” he asked Deaton, and wasn't even granted as much as a look.

 

“I believe I did it correctly. Regretfully.”

 

“Regretfully?!” Stiles hissed, but Deaton held up a hand.

 

“Just wait.”

 

The last thing Stiles wanted to do was wait, but he did. And eventually the smoke and smudging cleared up a little, and an image revealed itself clearly enough that Stiles felt vomit well up in his mouth.

 

“Deaton... that's not... what are we seeing?” he asked, though if he was being honest, he did know.

 

The smudging wasn't grease on a lens. It was filth in the very air. Grainy flakes flickering across whatever window they were looking through to this parallel universe Leia came from. The sky was dark, not a hint of sunlight through the bloated, charcoal clouds, and fat, fluffy flakes kept falling, covering everything in a thick blanket... of ash.

 

Visions of Pompeii flashed across Stiles' mind, prompting the bile in his throat to move again, but he forced himself to keep watching. It was still hard to make out, but the thing he'd thought was a couch turned out to be a park bench, so thickly covered in ash that it looked deceptively soft. And what he'd thought was one armrest... was two people, curled tightly around each other, covered in the same fluffy ash, and very clearly not alive.

 

He squeezed Derek's hand so hard it had to hurt. He had a pretty good idea who those people were, but...

 

“How can we know for sure?” Stiles asked, voice barely a whisper, and Deaton dipped his hand in the water, letting the ripples clear the image.

 

“Let's see if we can't find a memory instead,” Deaton said quietly, washing his hands and filling a clean bowl with new water. “May I?” he asked, and waited for Stiles' nod before clipping off another small lock of Leia's hair. A memory spell needed a lot less material, and all he had to do was drop the hairs into a small vial of blue liquid, swirling it around before pouring it into the water.

 

“Please keep in mind she's very young. Her memories might not be very clear,” Deaton warned, but this was something Stiles understood all too well.

 

“Just focus on her fear. The last time she was really afraid.”

 

“Of course.”

 

The ripples in the water settled, and images flitted across the surface, disjointed and vague. From Leia's infant outlook, everything was huge, shaky, and seen from lower down. Here and there Stiles saw glimpses of himself. His own eyes with longer lashes, his nose and chin in a less angular face, looking far too sad and tired. Lots of trees moving choppily. A worn jacket over a heaving chest. A chin darkened with unkempt beard.

 

_Leia's father._

 

There was a flash of light and then a seemingly huge hand, coming in close to stroke Leia's cheek before the bearded chin came into view again, followed by another all too familiar and heartbroken face, pressing a shaky kiss to Leia's forehead, and Derek's hand clenched so hard around Stiles' that he legitimately worried for a moment that something might snap.

 

“It's me,” Derek whispered breathlessly, and Stiles squeezed back as hard as he could, keeping his eyes on the water to not miss a single detail.

 

The Derek in the memories was just as stressed and frantic as Stiles remembered his other self looking, and he forced himself to watch as Leia saw her parents for the last time. As she was passed to her mother's arms there was a violent shake, and the view tilted before it righted itself, Leia's mother clinging to her Derek's arm and staring terrified towards the horizon. There was no sound, but there didn't have to be. Something horrific obviously just happened, and there was a flurry of movement, images of Derek screaming desperate, silent words at the mother of his child, pushing at them, and then Stiles was looking at himself, his actual self, his own confused face, the graphic tee he'd worn that day and the flannel he'd ended up wrapping Leia in.

 

Deaton sighed, and touched the water, letting the ripples clear the image.

 

Stiles stayed where he was, frozen in place, Derek's hand like a steel vice around his own. The realization that there was nothing to send Leia back to was somehow not nearly joyful enough to overcome the sheer horror of watching his other self moments from dying an unimaginably horrible death. Possibly the end of the fucking world.

 

“Do you think...” Derek said slowly, hand shaking in Stiles'. “Nuclear?”

 

“Could be. Or magic.”

 

Deaton turned to face them, arms crossed over his chest. “I don't think so. A magic calamity on that scale would disrupt all other spell casting. No matter your double's skill level, she could never have opened a portal during that. No, we're most likely looking at something more... mundane.”

 

Stiles could hardly think of a word less fitting for a goddamn nuclear apocalypse, but he wasn't exactly overflowing with alternatives to offer, so he kept his mouth shut.

 

“In any case, gentlemen. I hope you're prepared to give some thought to this young lady's future now. Because there's nothing left for her to return to,” Deaton said, and then as per usual ignored them until they went away.

 

What a dick.

 

But fuck it, Stiles was desperate to leave anyway, and as soon as they were outside he let out the breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding in. It felt like waking up from a bad dream, and he looked up at the new moon, taking in a few deep breaths before daring to look at Derek. After what they'd seen, Stiles half worried that he'd turn and find that the Derek from Leia's universe and the Derek holding his hand so tightly somehow merged into something unkempt, screaming and scared, and Stiles couldn't stop himself from shivering with dizzy relief when he clapped eyes on the Derek he knew. Looking roughly as green around the gills as Stiles felt, but perfectly fine and alive and _here_.

 

“I knew she was mine,” Derek said slowly. “I knew it. I could smell it on her. But... I didn't dare believe it. Not sure I felt I deserved it.”

 

Stiles wasn't sure what to say to that. Derek had come a long way, but he still needed _so_ much therapy.

 

“Cora seemed to know.”

 

Derek huffed. “No, she didn't. She thought I was just... obsessed with your smell on her. Which wasn't entirely wrong either.”

 

Right. The admission from earlier. It felt like years ago suddenly.

 

“Yeah, about that,” Stiles said on a sigh. “Can we just agree we've both been humongous idiots and then start from scratch?”

 

“I'd like that.”

 

“Me too. But, like... not right now. I'm kinda still grappling with the whole... end of the world thing,” Stiles said, trying to keep his voice light and not sound like he was as close to cracking as he felt he was.

 

Derek squeezed his hand again, and it was really getting pretty sore by now. Not that Stiles cared.

 

“That won't happen.”

 

“You don't know that.”

 

“No. I don't,” Derek admitted. “But if it does happen, you'll think of something. Just like she did. You always do.”

 

That was weirdly comforting, and it only took one look at Leia's sleepy face to solidify the notion. “You're right. For her? I don't think there's anything I wouldn't do.”

 

Derek nodded and stepped closer, putting his arm around Stiles so they could hug her between them. “Me too.”

 

* * *

 

Day 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12...

 

The days following the scrying were a weird mix of frenzied activity and blissful calm.

 

Stiles enlisted the whole pack to help ensure that Leia got all the paperwork needed to avoid ending up in social services, and spent the rest of his time changing diapers and dancing a weird dance around Derek and the revelation that he'd apparently been growing a crush while Stiles had been busy smothering one.

 

Erica flirted her way to the name of a dead girl with no family, who conveniently became the new official mother of Stiles' child. A nice story about a one night stand and a baby on a doorstep was cooked up, evidence doctored by Lydia and Boyd. A paternity test was done and passed, and within a month the paperwork came through. Leia Stilinski's birthday was set for May third, a date pretty much pulled out of a hat by the doctor giving her a thorough check up and deeming her healthy, which made Stiles send a silent thumbs up to her mother for doing so well in the face of Armageddon.

 

Cora broke into the tears when she realized she actually had a niece, and it was one of the scariest things Stiles ever saw her do.

 

But in the middle of the jigsaw puzzle of making Leia fit into this world, there were also pockets of peace, the likes of which Stiles could barely remember ever having felt before.

 

Spending hours napping in Derek's huge bed, all three of them curled up close. Watching Leia guzzle formula and gaining weight like a pro, peeing proudly on Derek three diaper changes in a row. Ditching onesie after onesie as Leia outgrew them, and delighting in how Derek shamelessly bought more, one cuter than the next.

 

Derek's loft became her unofficial address, mostly because it was was practical, and frankly Stiles would like to meet the person who could convince Derek to let Leia out of his sight for more than a few minutes at a time.

 

In truth, the only thing that could distract Derek from Leia was Stiles' cautious testing of the waters regarding their relationship. A brief kiss here, a hug there. Fingers entwined in grocery stores. Legs tangled in bed. Little touches growing more and more bold as Stiles got used to the idea of it being allowed. It progressed more slowly than Stiles ever thought himself capable of, but he also had never considered the possibility of attempting to date the object of his obsessive teenage dreams while being sleep-deprived and co-parenting a very loud and squirmy baby girl, who somehow became his world in a day and a half.

 

But there came a day where Stiles woke up one morning once again to Derek's eyes taking in his sleep-rumpled form, Leia's substantially larger body splayed between them, and pale sunlight streaming through a gap in the curtains. It was such a perfect mirror to that fateful day where he thought he was about to lose the daughter he'd barely even gotten to know yet that he had to kiss her messy hair and cuddle her close to convince himself it was in the past. A few other key differences helped too. Like how Derek smiled openly, bunny teeth proudly on display as he moved in for a stale kiss good morning, his touch now familiar and loved in a way even Stiles' dreams could never really compare to. Or how this was now Stiles' side of the bed, his clothes in the dresser and his toothbrush next to Derek's in the bathroom.

 

“Good morning,” Derek rumbled, and Stiles hummed in return.

 

“Yes. It is. It really is.”

 

End.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> It has been pointed out to me that Leia's birthday should definitely have been May 4th, and this is absolutely correct, and I hereby hand in all my nerd credentials for missing that golden opportunity. I was a fool! A FOOL, I SAY! Whyyy did I not think of that omg...


End file.
